


Trash (Metamorphosis)

by out_there



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-21
Updated: 2005-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 09:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon walked into the cargo bay to find the captain -- the ship's <i>captain</i> -- standing stark naked as they took off from atmo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trash (Metamorphosis)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://celli.livejournal.com/profile)[**celli**](http://celli.livejournal.com/) for audiencing and ooh-ing and aah-ing in the right places. Written for [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[**oxoniensis**](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/)'s Metamorphosis challenge. Thanks to [](http://in-the-bottle.livejournal.com/profile)[**in_the_bottle**](http://in-the-bottle.livejournal.com/) for betaing.

"You do realise you're naked, right?"

There were places -- certain appropriate, private places -- where nudity was expected. The main cargo bay of Serenity, with its clattering metal staircases and crates stacked along one grimy, dented wall, was not one of those places.

Of course, that was until now. Until Simon walked into the cargo bay to find the captain -- the ship's *captain* -- standing stark naked as they took off from atmo.

The captain didn't seem to have heard him, so Simon cleared his throat and repeated his rather sensible question. "You do realise you're naked, right?"

"Heard you the first time," Mal replied, shooting Simon a sly glance over his shoulder. "Didn't think a question that stupid was looking for an answer."

Simon blinked, opened his mouth and then closed it again. Things like this just didn't happen on Osiris. "Is there a reason why you're naked?"

Mal turned around, surprisingly carefree considering the man was wearing as little as the day he'd been born. "Don't normally need a reason, apart from the obvious."

"The obvi-- No, don't tell me," Simon said quickly, carefully watching a spot just over Mal's left shoulder. This would be a lot less embarrassing if he didn't have to meet Mal's eyes, or make eye contact with any other parts of Mal. Parts that were very exposed at the moment. "This had something to do with Saffron, didn't it?"

Mal gave a quick, definite nod. "It was part of the plan."

"I thought the plan involved Saffron double-crossing you and Inara getting the gun before her?"

"Part of the double-crossing portion involved getting me naked." Mal didn't flinch, didn't shrug, but there was something a little sheepish about his expression. "All in all, it turned out well."

"As I can see."

Mal raised an eyebrow at that.

"Since Inara came back with the gun," Simon amended, feeling slightly flustered. And somewhat annoyed at himself for being flustered. He was a doctor, a professional; he certainly shouldn't be embarrassed by a naked body. Trying to remember that, Simon steered the conversation back to more practical topics. "Do you think we'll have trouble selling it?"

"Don't reckon so." Mal raised his arms above his head, stretching his back and making a small content sound as he did so. Simon didn't mean to watch the way the muscles shifted and moved under Mal's skin, but it was hard not to. "If that scheming little prairie-witch can find a buyer, it's not going to give us any fuss."

"The Lassiter is a rare and highly valuable item," Simon said, mildly fascinated by the fine, pale scars that trailed down the side of Mal's stomach and over one hip. They must have been from shallow cuts; they'd healed well. But the ragged scarring on the outside of Mal's thigh confused him.

"Somehow, I don't feel like I've got your complete attention."

Simon looked up quickly. "Sorry, I just..."

"Got distracted by my birthday suit?"

"Well, yes," Simon replied, stepping closer to get a better look at the old wound. He lightly ran his fingers over the raised tissue, over the flared edges of pale scar. "But I was wondering what did this."

Mal lifted his chin, not stepping back from Simon's exploring touch. "Dog bite."

"Dog bite?" Simon frowned at Mal's thigh, at the contrast between tanned skin and pale scar. "A dog's jaw wouldn't be wide enough to do this damage."

"Maybe not your teeny-tiny, Core-bred dogs," Mal sneered with a twist to his mouth. "But out on the edges, we grow 'em big and mean."

Simon pressed harder against the muscle, feeling how deep the scar tissue went. "The angle of the wound is wrong. Even if I believed you grow dogs as big as horses -- which I don't -- the angle is wrong for an animal's jaw. It wouldn't be this deep."

"That a fact?"

"Yes, it is," Simon replied certainly. "This isn't a dog bite."

Mal's voice was low but his expression was steely. "It is if I say it is."

"Captain?" They both turned around to see Zoe standing at the top platform, her leather boot tapping an impatient rhythm on the railing. "You're needed up here."

"Really?" Mal asked, latching on to this change of subject.

"Only if you want a say in where we're going."

Mal snorted. "I'm on my way."

"Um, Captain?" Zoe settled her hands on the metal rail and leaned over to stare down at them.

"Yes?"

"Could you get dressed first?"

"It's my ship, Zoe." Mal waved his arm around at the mostly-empty cargo bay. Even though he didn't look at Simon, Simon had the distinct impression that Mal's comments were aimed at him anyway. "I can wear as much or as little as I like."

Zoe nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. "You're distracting my husband."

Mal grinned. "I think that says something about the type of man you've married."

"He's distracted by the urge to laugh unkindly, sir."

"Oh." Mal crossed his arms, his ego deflating a little. Simon tried not to let his amusement show. "In that case, I'll be up in a few minutes."

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback can be left here or on [Livejournal](http://out-there.livejournal.com/636085.html?mode=reply).


End file.
